I Love You Goodbye
by Pamela Eaton
Summary: A limey angst fic. Unconventional couple. Non-yaoi/yuri. Dorothy POV.


This is all your fault Alexa_Otaku! This has nothing to do with my current  
GW fic (Demon Star: War and Death), and the next part of that should be   
posted tomorrow sometime. I don't think it's half as good as the one she  
wrote that made me write this, but I'm not unhappy with it. (If I were, I  
probably wouldn't post it.)  
  
Title: I Love You. Goodbye.  
  
Author: Pamela Eaton (peaton@mail.orion.org)  
  
Rating: R (Limey)  
  
Type: Angst, Lime  
  
Couples: Guess. If you've read my other GW fic, you can probably guess   
pretty easily... .;  
  
Summary: A very Angsty lime fic. Mostly about sex. Though isn't detailed  
enough to count as a lemon.  
  
Feedback: Flames will be given to Dorothy and she'll use them to fuel the  
dolls with her rage! Muhahahaha!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the world. No infringement is  
intended.  
  
Notes: I normally do not write short stories. My stories tend to be over   
60kb at least (normally well over 100kb) so hopefully this won't be too   
bad.  
  
Theme songs: I typed this while listening to Lifehouse. I am entirely in  
love with their songs.  
  
~ * ~  
  
After the end of the war, Dorothy Catalonia sought comfort in the arms of  
many men, but only one ended up crawling into her heart and soul. It began  
slowly, though their relationship itself did not. She spotted him at a  
charity function, looking rather bored at all the going ons. Relena must  
have talked him into it, because it hardly seemed like something he would  
enjoy. Since even she was getting tired of the flattery and small talk, she  
decided to have a little fun.  
  
She ended up having more than a little fun, and nearly scandalized Relena  
with her forward behavior in such a public place. Dorothy didn't care what  
they thought of her though. He always said that was one thing he liked  
about her. She didn't delude herself though. He liked her for the sex as  
much as anything else. That's all anyone liked her for. That and her money.  
But he never seemed to care about her money or title.  
  
He knew who she was and who she had been. No one could possibly have  
feelings for someone who used to be their enemy. Perhaps that was why she  
thought it was safe to return to him the first few times. The third time  
they were together, he ran his fingers through her hair and whispered that  
as long as she was sorry and wished to be forgiven, then her past did not  
matter. That was the only time he ever saw her cry, and because of her  
shame, she didn't visit him again for a month.  
  
She did visit him again though. She tried to stay away, but he filled her  
thoughts when she laid down to sleep at night. Images of him danced across  
her passion blinded vision while other men's hands roamed over her body. He  
was like some magnet that kept pulling on her. Dorothy almost broke down  
and visited him many times, but it wasn't until Relena mentioned he'd asked  
about her that she folded and actually made it to his door.  
  
They didn't always have sex. He enjoyed doing the oddest things. He took  
her on a picnic once. She hadn't been on one since her father died. He even  
took her swimming at a beach down on Earth. She enjoyed that a lot. When he  
asked her why, she smiled and said, "It's just like flying. Just without  
wings." That was the first time he ever kissed her in public, though she  
never understood why.  
  
Soon after, they both got an invitation to another party thrown by Relena.  
Dorothy was hardly shy or ashamed, so she was the one who asked him. When  
they arrived together, Relena pulled them both aside and urged them not to  
make a scene. To the young Foreign Minister's woes, they did. And much more  
so than the first time they met. Relena nearly didn't invite her again, but  
the Catalonia fortune was something she couldn't afford to lose at this  
stage. But, she did stop sending invitations to him, though that didn't  
stop Dorothy from bringing him.  
  
They'd been seeing each other on and off for seven months before he told  
her that he thought she was beautiful. It wasn't the words that touched her  
so. She knew she was beautiful. It was the fact that he pressed his lips  
against her each of her sweat-slicked eyebrows right before he said it. She  
stopped sharing her bed with anyone else but him after that.   
  
It took a few more months with him before she realized. She was in love with  
him. Dorothy Catalonia was in love with Duo Maxwell. And the night she  
realized it was the night she left him.  
  
She didn't leave right away. She was laying in bed with him, playing with  
the end of his braid while he dozed softly. Once she'd asked him why he  
didn't cut his hair. He was reluctant, but he told her, pulling arms around  
her gently. He didn't cut his hair because it was the one thing that was  
truly his. The one thing no one could ever take away from him.   
  
That lead them both to disclosing the stories of their childhood's. Two  
extremely different stories, but riddled with loss. They both lost a lot.  
Perhaps that was a reason they were drawn together.  
  
Dorothy loved his hair. Sometimes he even took it down before they had sex.  
Together, they had a lot of hair and almost didn't need blankets. Not that  
they used them much.   
  
She nudged him awake, kissing his neck and under his chin. It took him a  
few moments before he responded, murmuring softly. She started to unbraid  
his hair and he turned those wide blue eyes on her and grinned. He knew she  
only unbraided her hair when she wanted something. More specifically, a  
certain something. Not that he ever protested. It was the only time that  
she could honestly say they made love, at least from her side.  
  
When they finished, she didn't let him fall back asleep. She wanted to take  
a shower. With him. It wasn't the first time they had, but she knew it  
would be the last.  
  
Under the downpour of water droplets, Dorothy pressed her lips against his  
skin more than once. More than a dozen times. She wanted to feel, to taste,  
every inch of him, memorize every muscle, every line. Even the scars he  
had. Some were given to him by her. She wasn't exactly the most gentle  
lover. She was that night. She'd been so gentle.   
  
She even washed his hair that night, and he returned the favor, saying how  
much he liked her hair. How soft it was. It was then that Dorothy decided  
something. "Braid my hair, Duo." she whispered against his neck, body  
pressed against his while his hands reached around her to work the shampoo  
into her hair. "I want you to braid my hair when we're done."  
  
His hands paused, but when she pressed a kiss on the water-slicked neck and  
asked, "Please?" he nodded. She never said that to him before. She never  
asked for anything. If she wanted something, she took it. It was better  
that she left before it got any worse.  
  
She didn't let him wait for morning to braid it, saying she wanted him to  
do it right then, even wet as it was. Perhaps Duo knew something was wrong  
then, but be complied, brushing her wet blonde hair out and braiding it  
very carefully.  
  
When they finally got to sleep it was closer to dawn then dusk, but she was  
gone well before the artificial sunlight of the Colony flooded through the  
windows. She left two things behind. Two things that could be physically  
touched at least. A note. And her hair.  
  
It wasn't difficult to find an extra tie to secure the braid at the base of  
her neck, nor was it to find a sharp enough knife. Dorothy hadn't had her  
hair cut in years, not since her father died, so immediately she noticed  
the change in weight on her scalp. She didn't bother straightening the cut  
of her newly chin length hair. She couldn't risk him waking up while she   
was still there.   
  
Laying the severed braid beside the note on the side of the bed that she  
normally slept on, Dorothy leaned over to press one last kiss on his lips.  
He moved as she did, muttering something in his sleep. He didn't stir  
again. And she left.  
  
When Dorothy stepped outside, her neck felt cold, her eyes felt hot, and  
her chest felt tight. But somehow she managed a smile. She wouldn't let  
herself be sad. He gave her the one thing she'd been searching for. Dorothy  
Catalonia. The war craving granddaughter of Duke Dermail. The warrior and  
the politician. The girl who plotted against and betrayed even those closet  
to her. That girl was dead. She died in the arms of the God of Death.  
Whoever she would be now didn't matter. Everything she had been was  
sacrificed in that room, and now she would make her own future. Her own  
life.  
  
And the note she left contained four words, written in her normal, elegant  
hand.  
  
I love you. Goodbye.  
  
  
=======================================================  
  
I'm almost tempted to write a sequel or a co-fic from Duo's POV... c.c; 


End file.
